The VCR

Vintage scars and VCRs wrapped up in floral scarves. Cigarette-stained teeth and cold blue eyes that told you “I don't care.” Dishevelled blonde hair with a pale white streak. How could she let her thoughts turn to death? She swore she would stamp it out. She would stare at the inkblot constellation; she knew that she would one day become a pillar of salt. The beauty was her curse, she was exquisite and nothing more.